Birds of Prey
by Lady Eleanor Boleyn
Summary: His Emblem is the Falcon. Hers is the Kestrel. Together they are the Birds of Prey - until they themselves fall to become the prey. Odd couple ficathon entry.


**AN: So this is my odd couple ficathon entry. The pairing is Papa Boleyn/Ursula Misseldon**** and it works on the pretext that Ursula served Anne as a Lady in Waiting as well as Jane Seymour. Oh, and her emblem is the kestrel. You'll see why you need to know that later. Anyway, this is clearly AU, but I hope you enjoy anyhow. Review, please!**

**Birds of Prey**

**March 1539**

Thomas Boleyn lay still on his four-poster bed, struggling for breath. His time was near, he knew it; his chaplain had already administered the last rites for God's sake.

Administered the last rites. Forgiven him for what he had done to them; his family. To Elizabeth, Anne, George and Mary. But it wasn't his chaplain's forgiveness he required, it was theirs. Elizabeth's, Anne's, George and Mary's. And hers. He should have fought for her; told her what he truly felt for her.

And now he lay silent on his deathbed; alone, yet not alone, for they all seemed to crowd around him, eerie, oppressive, accusing.

Mary, banished to Rochford for daring to marry beneath her station.

George, his heir. Trapped in a marriage union with a woman he hated, he had shunned her, preferring Anne's company instead. An action which had eventually led him to the cold hard wood of the executioner's block.

Anne, his pride and joy. The youngest of the family, she had nevertheless risen to the greatest dizzying heights of power; royal power. She had been Queen of England. Queen! And then it had all gone wrong. The King had tired of her and, without a son to keep her safe, she had been executed on false charges. To make matters worse, he, her own father, had never even lifted a finger to save her.

Elizabeth. The daughter of one of England's greatest landowners, she had married him for love. Love that had turned to hate, scorn and disgust. His ambition had driven them apart, especially when it involved their children. Elizabeth had never forgiven him for what he had done to their children. In fact, she had hated him to the extent that she had banned him from his place beside her deathbed.

And her. The woman he had never told he loved her, yet somehow, still held his heart, even after all these years.

She seemed to be there, standing behind Anne, reassuring him with her eyes.

"Ursula." He croaked her name and let the memories take control.

* * *

**September 1532**

Thomas Boleyn, Earl of Wiltshire and Ormonde, stood behind his youngest daughter's shoulder, watching her new ladies filing before the pair of them, curtsying and murmuring their names.

"Maud Neville" – "Anne Parr" – Most of them kept their eyes downcast, even those who were of nobler blood than the Boleyns could claim ran in their veins, but one did not. One woman kept her head up and her eyes somehow found his as she dipped low into a straight-backed French curtsy of the kind Anne adored.

"_Lady _Ursula Misseldon." she announced, as if daring him to contradict her. He had no intention of doing so. Her hazel eyes held him as Anne's brown-black ones held the King and, to his surprise, Thomas found himself admiring her spirit.

* * *

He did not see her again for several weeks, being busy preparing for Anne's visit to France with His Majesty, but then, all of a sudden, he did.

She appeared at his side during the dancing one evening, looking, he had to admit, quite beautiful in a fashionable gown of dark blue and russet taffeta.

Though he wasn't one to fall for women for the sake of their looks alone, he knew that anyone who was would have loved her on sight.

"How now, Lord Wiltshire? Do you not dance on this fine evening?"

His head was still spinning from the informality of her address, when, quite without meaning to, he found himself answering "No, Lady Ursula. I find that dancing, sadly, is not my forte. I prefer to watch from the safety of the sidelines. And you? Why do you not dance? Surely you cannot plead absence of skill as an excuse?"

"I have some skill, it is true;" Ursula replied absently, sipping at her goblet of wine, "but I find dancing is too frivolous to be of any real enjoyment to me. I much prefer games that require some subtle skill, such as chess. Do you not agree?"

"Yes. Quite." As he spoke so distractedly, Thomas was quite alarmed when Ursula seized his arm.

"Then why do we not amuse ourselves with something that we both enjoy more than this? I know where there is a chess set to be found. Come."

She pulled him after her insistently so that, a few minutes later, without quite knowing how he'd got there, Thomas found himself seated before a chessboard, his black pawns arrayed before him, ready to commence play.

The match was a long and protracted one; they were obliged to light lamps for extra light long before Ursula, a note of triumph half hidden in her soft voice, whispered "Checkmate, Lord Wiltshire. You see, a Kestrel can best a Falcon after all. Yield."

Startled to find that he was indeed in the position of checkmate, Thomas glanced up to find her smiling in triumph before laying down his king in resignation.

"I yield, Lady Misseldon."

He rose to leave, but her voice halted him in his tracks before he could take more than a few steps towards the door.

"Lord Wiltshire. Aren't you forgetting something?"

"And what might that be?"

"My reward." Ursula's tone was so matter of fact that Thomas could do nothing but stare at her in consternation as she continued "But what to ask for? You have already said that you are no dancer and I have clearly beaten at chess, so a rematch would be of no use. Ah. I know. I adore music. Sing for me."

"You – You – What? Sing?" For once in his life, Thomas was lost for words. At last he stammered "Singing - is – is – hardly one of my accomplishments, Lady Misseldon. Perhaps I had better -"

"Come, come. You are too modest, Lord Wiltshire. Anyone can sing. Even a Falcon. Sing for me."

Faced with her obvious determination, Thomas felt that, as a gentleman, he could do nothing but accede to her request. He launched into one of the songs popular with the younger men at Court.

She stopped him after a few bars, clearly struggling not to laugh.

"With all due respect, Lord Wiltshire, I must confess that I hardly recognise the song. You were right. Singing most definitely is not your strong point. Very well. Tell me, then, instead, what goes on in the Privy Council meetings."

Now it was his turn to laugh. "Lady Misseldon, you are a woman. Women should not concern themselves with politics."

He turned to the door again, but she sprang to it before him and slammed it shut. Eyes blazing, she glared at him.

"Just because I am a woman does not mean that I do not have a brain, Lord Wiltshire. If I were as trained in statecraft as you are, well, then I think you'd find that I'd be just as adept at it as you are." she hissed. "Now, tell me!"

"_Anything to tame this wild bird so that I can retire for the night." _ He thought. "_What harm can once do?" _

So, to Ursula's astonishment, he gave in without further protest and began to speak.

* * *

But it wasn't just the once he told her about the happenings in Privy Council meetings. Their evenings of chess and political talk continued regularly throughout the rest of 1532, 1533, 1534, 1535 and the beginning of 1536.

During their talks, Thomas found himself liking Ursula more and more. She was his intellectual equal in every way that Elizabeth simply wasn't. And what's more, she was actually interested. Elizabeth generally let him talk and just got on with her sewing as she listened. Ursula actually paid attention and made suggestions of her own. He liked that about her.

She had his daughter Anne's spirit too – she wasn't afraid to speak her mind, which, though he pretended to dislike at times, he always admired in a woman; particularly this woman.

No sooner had he come to terms with his feelings, however, than Ursula forbade him to see her again.

* * *

"I can't see you again." Ursula's eyes, usually so intent and fiery, were soft; filled with regret.

"But why? I thought we liked one another." He couldn't stop the question.

"We do." Ursula assured him, laying a gentle hand on his arm. "But His Majesty has taken an interest in me. If things were different, I might try to refuse him, but with Anne as precarious as she is;" here Ursula broke off as her voice wavered.

"So I can't see you again." she finished, her voice hard with new resolve. "You do understand, don't you?"

Oh yes, he understood. He understood only too well. But that didn't make it any the less hurtful.

"Ursula -" he started.

"Go. Just go." she begged, clearly losing composure.

Rather than obey, however, he leaned forward, capturing her velvety lips with his.

"Ursula. My Kestrel." He moaned her name into the kiss.

One long moment later, she pushed him away.

"Don't make this any harder, Thomas. Go, please. Go!"

This time, he obeyed.

* * *

He saw her only once more.

As he sat in the damp cell allotted to him, staring at the grey walls of the Tower around him and wondering how on Earth Anne had let it all slip away from her so much that he too would come to this, a fallen prisoner, completely at the King's mercy, when the door opened and she came in.

"Ursula!" He sprang up at the sight of her, but she took a step back before he could fold her into his arms.

"I've haven't long, Thomas. I just came to say; I've secured you your life. And your titles. But you are never to come to Court again."

He stared at her. "You Angel!" His voice was little more than a whisper.

"Do you understand?" she asked, her voice high with anxiety.

"Do you understand? You are still an Earl; an Earl twice over. You still have all your lands. However, you are never to come to Court again. You are banished. Permanently. Is that clear?"

He nodded. "I understand."

In one movement, he had fallen to his knees before her, caught her hand and was pressing it fervently to his lips. "Thank you, Lady Misseldon! Thank you! God Bless you!"

"Don't thank me, thank the King! It's his clemency you're being given."

"Of course I do. Tell His Majesty that I will forever be most humbly grateful for this act of mercy."

"I will." Ursula assured him before withdrawing her hand and turning to leave. At the door, she paused, her hand on the door frame as she glanced back at him one last time.

"Godspeed, God Bless and Goodbye, Thomas. Thank you for everything."

* * *

And now, she was here, by his bedside as he drew his last breaths.

"Ursula." He whispered her name again, reaching for her. "Will it be all right? Will they forgive me?"

He knew he was dreaming, but he still heard it. Her voice, speaking to him, soothing him.

"It'll be fine, Thomas. Of course they'll forgive you. Why wouldn't they? You're their family. Family comes first, no matter what. I'll bet they're waiting for you up there right now. As I hope you'll wait for me."

"I will." he promised.

"Then go. Go in peace to meet your family."

He felt a hand on his brow and relaxed at the tender touch. He closed his eyes and let death claim him.


End file.
